this is the key to the castle
by FluffyShrekGirl
Summary: Late one night, Myotismon considers his future. 25 years later, a young boy stumbles on his old hideout, unintentionally making one of the biggest mistakes of his short life.
1. this is the key to the castle

this is the key to the castle

DISCLAIMER: I don't own digimon (a bit fed up of trying to make this original lol) and I also don't own the poem this fic is based around, which is also called 'this is the key to the castle, and is by Dave Calder. It's a poem I've loved since I was about five years old, and thinking of it today a fic suddenly struck me. So here it is. Oh, and if you were wondering: the use of no capital letters in the poem is intentional, so as to be faithful to the original, printed in the book 'Twinkle Twinkle Chocolate Bar' all those years ago. Oh, also – vampire saliva causes blood to clot.

I've changed the couplings slightly as the digidestined grew up, and also the fact that everyone in the world gets a digimon. I never liked that, and in this fic, they don't. The odd job is different too, as you'll realize upon reading this. I hope that doesn't put anyone off it too much!

_this is the key to the castle_

Myotismon sat in his library. One hand clasped a goblet filled with a thick red liquid, the other drummed its fingers thoughtfully on the desk. His gaze was held by a tiny glass jewel lying in front of him.

It was about one and a half inches long, and a deep amber colour, tapering to a thin point at one end. He knew it was powerful. And he also knew that it was in some way associated with the digidestined. Indeed, only they would be able to access its powers. And yet…

Myotismon's eyes flickered to a book lying open by his drumming fingers, and abruptly he lifted his hand to run one of them down the page until he reached a certain paragraph. Contained within was the information he needed to seal a part of his essence inside the crystal. By doing so it would mean that anyone who activated its powers would unwittingly cause his instant rebirth.

Myotismon was an arrogant digimon. He knew there was no way that a pathetic bunch of seven children would be able to prevent his rightful takeover of the two worlds. He knew he would succeed, and that there was really no need for this petty insurance policy. But above all things, he was not foolish, and although it pained his pride to do so, he knew he must formulate some kind of back-up. There was… always a chance.

He picked up a small boring tool and with infinite care hollowed out a tiny, unnoticeable hole into the jewel. Then, drawing off one glove to reveal a pale, long-fingered hand, he clenched his fist, digging his inhumanly sharp nails into his palm; hard enough to draw blood.

Tilting his arm he let a single droplet of blood fall into the hidden crevice that was now part of the gem. He moved his tongue over his hand, healing the cuts, and then in one fluid movement pulled his glove back on. After stopping up the puncture in the rock with a thin sliver of amber, previously created for this very moment, he took the jewel and opened a drawer in his desk. Inside was a small wooden box. The locks on the front gleamed dully in the candlelight, and unlocking it he carefully placed the jewel in the centre. He concealed the box under his massive armchair. It was the key to future success, and must be safeguarded where it could not be broken.

He went upwards through the lair and found a window. He looked out, watching the moon in the sky for a few seconds. Then he spread his arms and fell into the waiting darkness, swooping upwards at the last moment like a bat in flight. Now that that was taken care of, he saw no reason to waste the rest of the night, and disappeared into the gathering dusk to create another news story for Odaiba's reporters.

_this is the box_

_with rusty locks_

_that holds the key to the castle_

Time has a way of passing and leaving its mark. It did. The seven digidestined, together with their new team-mates Kari and Gatomon, defeated Myotismon twice the following week. The team expanded, bringing Davis, Yolei, Cody and Ken. Soon after, they faced Myotismon once more, and joining with digidestined the world over they stopped him yet again. They grew up, married and had children, and thought that the threat of evil was gone.

Meanwhile, the box remained where Myotismon had left it: under the chair in his retreat. The locks grew rusty with age and the damp of underground, and became weak and useless. Layers of dust settled over everything – the ancient tomes, the chair, the desk and the box.

_this is the spider, huge and fat,_

_who wove her web and sat and sat_

_on top of the box_

_with rusty locks_

_that holds the key to the castle_

Digimon remained there, echoes of ages past when earlier generations had been Myotismon's slaves. A small Dokugumon built a poison-infused web around the chair and the box – a massive spider for the human world, but just a baby compared to some. It settled in the chair and rarely moved, waiting for unwary prey. Only then did it streak like lightning to feed. For most of the time, it just sat and sat, guarding an ancient secret it could not possibly comprehend.

_this is the cellar, cold and bare,_

_dark as a grave, with nothing there_

_except the spider, huge and fat,_

_who wove her web and sat and sat_

_on top of the box_

_with rusty locks_

_that holds the key to the castle_

The room was musty, and ice-cold as though touched by many a winter and never warmed by the sun above. The darkness was thick with threats of evil, and nothing could be seen.

_this is the stair that rumbles and creaks_

_where every small step moans and squeaks,_

_that leads to the cellar, cold and bare,_

_dark as the grave, with nobody there_

_except the spider, huge and fat_

_who wove her web and sat and sat_

_on top of the box_

_with rusty locks_

_that holds the key to the castle_

A stairway spiralled upwards in the corner of the room, the same stairway that Myotismon had ascended to become the terror in the night so long ago. Now it crumbled dangerously, and the slightest movement upon it, an insect's footsteps perhaps, sent creaks and groans shuddering through it.

_this is the rat with yellow teeth,_

_sharp as sorrow and long as grief,_

_who ran up the creaking crumbling stair,_

_up from the cellar, cold and bare,_

_dark as the grave, with nobody there_

_except the spider, huge and fat,_

_who wove her web and sat and sat_

_on top of the box_

_with rusty locks_

_that holds the key to the castle_

A rat-like digimon had appeared not so long ago. It lived on the dangerous stair and in the neglected hallway above. Its teeth were long and sharp, and stained a sickly yellow colour – from what, nobody cared to know.

_this is the damp and dirty hall_

_with peeling paper on its mouldy wall_

_where the black rat runs with yellow teeth_

_sharp as sorrow and long as grief_

_at the top of the stair that crumbles and creaks_

_where every small step moans and squeaks,_

_that leads up from the cellar, cold and bare,_

_dark as a grave, with nobody there_

_except the spider, huge and fat,_

_who wove her web and sat and sat_

_on top of the box_

_with rusty locks_

_that holds the key to the castle_

At the top of the stair was a long hallway, the wall covered with notices on which the writing had long since faded, and that were peeling away where the mould was growing. A few beer bottles and cigarette ends proved it to be a sometime haunt of teenagers. They never stayed long, though – the black rat liked this hall and it was quite vicious with intruders, and there were too many tales about the place for them ever to be really comfortable hanging around in there – and they never ventured down the stairs. They were foolish, but not suicidal. It was of general agreement that no-one could make it down those stairs alive, and when this rumour was coupled with the strange stories people told about this forgotten castle, no-one was even stupid enough to gamble on this idea.

_this is the ghost with rattling bones_

_carrying his head, whose horrible groans_

_fill the damp and dirty hall_

_with peeling paper on its mouldy wall_

_where the big black rat with yellow teeth_

_sharp as sorrow, long as grief_

_runs to the stair that crumbles and creaks_

_where every small step moans and squeaks_

_that leads to the cellar, cold and bare_

_and dark as a grave with nobody there_

_except the spider, huge and fat,_

_who wove her web and sat and sat_

_on top of the box_

_with rusty locks_

The tales weren't strictly true, of course. No ghost wandered along the corridor late at night, carrying his head and rattling his bones. There was just a small, lonely figure that occasionally drifted through, his face obscured by a heavy, wide-brimmed hat, his hands bearing tattered gloves that clasped a small yellow staff, floating about two inches off the floor.

_this is the child who came to play_

_on a rainy, windy, nasty day_

Time not only has a way of passing, it has a way of being interrupted. No matter how long a place is left to the passing of time, eventually someone will interrupt it: the archaeologist in the pharaoh's tomb, the cleaner in the teenager's bedroom… or the child in the forgotten castle.

"Have you got the list?"

Takeru Takaishi folded his arms and gazed suspiciously down at his twelve-year-old son, who avoided his gaze and scuffed his foot on the floor.

"Day?"

The boy met his stare and grinned sheepishly. "Oops. Sorry, Dad."

Takeru chuckled. "Never mind. Go get it – and try to remember next time, all right?"

"Gotcha." Day ducked past his father and darted into the kitchen, sweeping his hand across the worktop to find the shopping list that Takeru had written. His hand hit something hard, and he looked up in horror to see a tall glass of orange juice begin to totter towards the edge.

Hikari reached forward and caught the glass before any of its contents spilled. "Are you trying to stop me having breakfast again?"

"Sorry, Mom."

Hikari shook her head fondly. "Be careful."

"I will. I'll see you later, Dad wants me to pick up some stuff from the store."

"OK. Just make sure you're not home too late."

"I will!" Day shouted back, already running to the door. Hikari sighed at her son's limitless energy, and then with a smile returned to eating her bagel.

Day ran through Odaiba without once pausing for breath, stopping only when he reached the convenience store with its glowing neon signs. The sky above him was growing dark, and leaden rain clouds had begun to form, hovering ominously. He pushed open the door and crouched in the doorway with his hands on his knees, panting heavily.

A woman with purple hair that just brushed her shoulders stuck her head around one of the shelves curiously, and her face broke into a welcoming beam upon seeing him. "Day! How nice! How are you? How are Kari and TK doing?"

Day inclined his head respectfully before continuing. "We're all fine, thank you Mrs. Ichijouji. How are you all?"

Yolei shook her head. "It's crazy around here at the moment! Aiko's throwing a major fit with the idea of summer exams and had decided she's not going to university, Jax doesn't take his eyes off that Gameboy of his, Chi's teething so we don't get any peace at all, and Ken…" She rolled her eyes. "Ken has a big case he's running at the moment, so I'm left to deal with all of that by myself. Well, he _says_ he has a big case. Huh. So, what can I do for you today?"

"I'm just here to pick up a few things," Day responded. "Mom and Dad sent me."

"All right then. Don't forget – you get a discount!"

"But Mrs. Ichijouji - "

"Ah ah ah!" she wagged a finger at him. "Don't give me that. You know how I feel about your parents."

"Yeah," Day smiled. "How'd you guys become such good friends anyway?"

Yolei's eyes widened, and she looked panicky for a second. "Oh, we just – well, we knew each other really well at school, and – I used to help your father when he needed computer tutoring," she finished rather lamely. But Day cheerfully accepted this, seeming not to notice her hesitation.

"Cool," he nodded, and then wandered off around the shelves, occasionally glancing down at the crumpled list.

"Goodbye Mrs. Ichijouji!" Day shouted over his shoulder as he stepped out into the gathering dusk, carrying a small shopping bag. Craning his neck, he scanned the sky, and grimaced. He would have to try and get home before the storm broke.

A strong wind had blown up while he was inside the store. He had been longer than he had expected to be with talking to Yolei. He clamped his hand on his head to stop his hat from blowing off, and hurried down the sidewalk towards home.

Thunder boomed in the sky above him, and more than once he caught a flicker of lightning. This was not good.

He stopped at the edge of the park. He knew it would take him forever to get across the roads leading to the apartment at this hour, since it was when everyone was coming home from work, and he knew it would be far quicker to cut through the park, down over the peninsula that jutted out into the water, and round the back of the TV station to the west side of the apartment building.

A niggling feeling rose within him as he thought of what lay under the peninsula. The forgotten castle… _konpaku kyassuru_, everyone at school called it. Ghost castle. But he shook that away. That was silly. He was twelve years old: much too old to believe in things like ghosts.

Resolutely he set off through the park, the wind tugging at his collar.

He reached the edge of the peninsula with little difficulty, apart from the odd need to chase his hat. At the edge he paused. Nearer the peninsula, his courage was somewhat dwindled.

Gazing out across the grass, he was suddenly annoyed. This was stupid. No dumb ghost story was going to stop him taking a shortcut home.

And if there was a ghost… well…

Perhaps it was this last that made him begin to sprint over the grass. He didn't want to be there too long; after all, said a voice in the back of his mind, all stories started somewhere…

Because he was keeping his eyes fixed on the other side of the peninsula, he didn't see the furrow in the ground below him, and yelped in surprise when his left foot hit it and he tumbled to the floor. He glared back at the furrow, but abruptly felt the ground underneath him begin to shake, and then cried out in terror as it fell away beneath him, dropping him into inky darkness.

Day came to lying on top of the collapsed earth. As his eyes grew accustomed to the darkness, he saw a huge chair covered in spider webs against the back wall of the room, a massive dusty desk in front of it, and in the corner a crumbling, decrepit staircase spiralling upwards until it disappeared out of sight. Day's blood ran cold as he realized where he was. The basement of _konpaku kyassuru_… the basement where no-one had ever been (to his knowledge), because no-one could get down the spiral staircase… he cast a glance at it, and then peered up at the hole he had come through. It was far too high for him to get out through, and that meant he would probably have to risk the stairs...

Trying to put off that time, he wandered round the room, his intrigue now getting the better of his fear. It was an interesting place – hundreds of books lined the walls, and Day wondered how long they had been there. He doubted any of the adults knew this castle even existed. He grinned. His Uncle Taichi would be psyched… Uncle Yamato probably wouldn't approve, though.

He shook his head ruefully, and returned his gaze to the stairway, hoping he would have some idea as to how to begin his ascent. Then he froze.

_and said BOO to the ghost who groaned in the hall_

_Something_ was there. It didn't look to be carrying a head, or rattling bones… but it didn't look like it belonged to this world. It was a shadow, a long one that ended what was obviously a pointed hat. Day stared, and absurdly all he could think of was, _Wow… wait till I tell Ferdy and Vin at school tomorrow!_

Although Day could not see a face in the shadow, he had the horrible notion that it was looking at him. It just gazed unflinchingly.

Day clenched his fists and drew on his courage. "Hey, get out of here. Go on. Shoo."

The ghost didn't move.

Summoning all his energy, Day took a deep breath and yelled:

"BOO!"

The ghost seemed startled, and taking fright it shot off up the stairs.

Day still remained there, fists tight, breathing hard. He couldn't believe it. Not only had he seen the ghost of _konpaku kyassuru_, he had faced it down! His best friend Ferdy was going to be insane with jealousy.

_and SCAT to the rat by the mouldy wall_

_and went down the creaking crumbling stair_

_into the cellar, cold and bare,_

"Yeah!" He punched the air with his fist. Unexpectedly he caught sight of a rather large, nasty-looking rat sitting against the wall. The rodent suddenly scuttled towards him, baring its teeth. Day jumped back, and grabbing the first thing that came to hand off the desk he swung round and struck the rat, hollering:

"SCAT!"

The rat was flung against the wall, and squeaking in pain it ran off into some dark corner to lick its wounds. Day breathed a sigh of relief, although he knew he would have to keep an eye out for that thing. It was probably rabid.

He rolled his eyes. A ghost, and then a humongous rat? What was this, the twelve labours of Heracles?

That was when he saw the spider.

_and laughed at the spider, huge and fat,_

Day nearly laughed. The spider was huge. But after facing a ghost and a rabid rat, he seemed to have used up all his fear. A ridiculously large spider didn't frighten him at all.

_and brushed off the web where it sat and sat_

The spider hissed at him, and darted forwards, but Day hit it squarely with the book, and it flew through the air and landed on top of a low bookcase. It stayed there, apparently not wishing to chance getting sent flying again. It hissed once more.

Day ignored it. Some thing had caught his eye: a mahogany box was peeping out from under the chair, almost completely masked by both the piece of furniture and the spider's thick, oddly-coloured webbing. Day put the book down and carefully eased the webbing apart with his hands. Some got caught underneath his fingernails, but he was too intent on the box to pay it much mind.

He pulled the box out from under the chair. It was surprisingly light, and Day was disappointed: did that mean there was nothing in it?

_and opened the box_

He felt a wave of frustration when he saw that there were two heavy padlocks, but his hope was renewed when he spotted that they were very rusted. If he could just…

_with the rusty locks_

Day yanked at them, and they both came free simultaneously, causing him to fall back. He took a quick look around to ensure the spider and rat were staying well away, then delicately raised the lid.

There was only one thing inside – a small amber crystal, tapering to a point at one end, about one and a half inches long. Day reached for it, and when his hand clasped around the gem there was a sudden, brilliant light that filled the room. Day shielded his eyes, and as the light faded he caught himself speculating on whether it was the jewel that had produced it…

But that was just plain daft. He went to put the stone back in the box, but found he was unable to let go of it. There was a fierce magnetism drawing him to it, and he desperately didn't want to leave it. Day didn't understand this feeling at all; it was just an old trinket, after all. But, he reasoned, if the thought of leaving it behind made him so miserable, he may as well take it along with him. He could at least use it to prove to Vin and Ferdy that he was telling the truth. He slipped it into his pocket, and then turned his attention to the stairs. There was nothing else for it: he'd just have to go for it.

And so it was with many scrapes and bruises that Day Takaishi fell through is front door, never telling his parents where he'd been, only saying he'd fallen running to get out of the storm, and all the while feeling his prize resting against his leg.

_and took the key to the castle_

A/N: So, hope you liked! Oh btw - if you're wondering where the name 'Day' came from, go to and search it. I think you'll understand then! Epilogue coming soon!


	2. Epilogue

Epilogue

DISCLAIMER: I know what you're going to say next! I don't own digimon.

Deep in the darkness, something stirred.

He looked like a very tall man, with golden blond hair and shockingly bright blue eyes. He was leaning limply back in the huge armchair, still not up to full strength. One gloved hand dangled loosely over the arm of the chair. His breathing was slow and even, and one might have thought he was asleep if not for those piercing eyes.

Time had passed once more, this time only a few hours, and gradually tiny bits of data had come streaming into the dim room. It had taken much time; most of the data had to make the long journey from the digital world where it had hovered, waiting. It had been recovering its power slowly – but a shortcut like this one was much appreciated.

His face broadened into a weary smile as he felt the last bit of data connect to him, and in the blackness long sharp teeth shone gloating.

After all the different passages of time, his own had arrived.


End file.
